


The Road to Hell

by Luthienberen



Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: Angst, Dark, Friendship, Gen, Male Friendship, Mild Gore, Season/Series 01 Spoilers, grimm_challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-13
Updated: 2012-10-13
Packaged: 2017-11-16 06:03:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/536290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luthienberen/pseuds/Luthienberen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What would you do for a friend? Nick finds out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Road to Hell

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for the Picture Fanfiction contest on grimm_challenge on LiveJournal. The challenge was to base one’s fic on a picture of Nick crying. Word count is 1, 500.
> 
> Thank you to my wonderful beta rae_fa!
> 
> Also cross-posted to grimm_fic and Fanfiction.net.

 

\- - -

 

Nick ran, gasping for breath, cursing the fact that his car sat useless on the side of the road a mile behind. It had taken too long for Nick to leave work causally; too long to figure out where he had to go.

It had taken him too long to realise that his car that had been temperamental for weeks would break down when he needed it most – though such a crappy event currently summoned up his life pretty nicely.

The sidewalk was painful on his feet and his shoes did little to prevent the rainwater seeping through, though it didn’t help that Nick wasn’t avoiding the large puddles, instead sloshing through them.

He did not have the time to care.

All he had time to do was run.

He turned a corner into the street he was aiming for. A deafening roar reverberated through the air and abruptly the rain began to fall harder, obscuring his vision. A strong breeze picked up, clutching at the frantic Grimm, attempting to unseat his balance.

Nick bowed his head and screamed internally to try _harder_.

His muscles tore at him and then he was stumbling up a slope opposite the bank of glowing houses, lights a shimmer past the cascade of rain.

He paused, listening, moaning when a howl rose on the wind.

He headed in the direction he had heard the cry, wet leaves slapping at his face and arms, but all he could concentrate on was reaching Monroe before…before it was too late. Nick’s heart clenched.

Then all of a sudden another wail rose on the wind, loud and clear.

He was close, yet…Nick swallowed in a dry throat. That howl was too victorious for comfort.

Nick somehow managed to eke out more strength from his failing body and hurled over a ground that appeared to have an entity of its own, delighting in causing him to flounder in this nightmarish world of nature.

Then Nick saw through the gloom a hunched figure. Knowing he should be cautious but beyond all rational thought Nick careened to a stop a few paces away.

“Monroe?” Nick coughed. He could barely speak, breath hissing through his nose and mouth.

The figure didn’t stir. Dread coiled in Nick’s belly.

_What if I’m too late?_

Fumbling for his flashlight Nick flicked the switch. The harsh illumination temporarily seared his eyeballs and then his sight adjusted.

What he witnessed made his gut twist. The beam of light fell on a body a metre away.

Nick moved closer, horror building. There was no chance that the person was still alive, not with their intestines spilling onto the ground in a slick spread of blood; not with their legs so badly mangled that calling them legs was a generous gesture.

“Oh shit Monroe.”

Nick collapsed onto the wet soil and flicked his flashlight to Monroe who sat as still as a tombstone.

His friend raised a head and Nick stared into a face soaked crimson. As he watched, the water that succeeded in penetrating through the trees made bloody trickles all over Monroe’s cheeks and Nick could see lumps of flesh mattered in Monroe’s hair.

Monroe was more demon from Hell than a genteel clock-maker who happened to be a Blutbad and his best buddy.

Yet Nick wasn’t sickened by the vision, no, to his slight shame he felt soul depth relief that Monroe was unharmed.

Monroe gazed back at him with eyes glazed over. _That would be the drug,_ whispered Nick’s numb mind.

Who would have thought that Wolfsbane mixed with Heroin would have such a devastating effect on Blutbaden, reverting them to their baser instincts, robbing them of reason until only the desire to chase, to rend and kill, to eat, remained?

But someone had and now Monroe had been the latest Blutbad to suffer its effects. The madness was short-lived, but those few hours usually resulted in some innocent dying a brutal death. Monroe had admitted that even once recovered that the door opened by such violence would be difficult to close, that the bloodlust once summoned in a Wieder would be much harder to repress due to how tightly controlled it had been in the first place.

Nick felt hate hit with an intensity he had never considered possible. It was as if the blood in his veins had been replaced with rage.

He would make the Wesen who had created this drug pay in blood.

Nick glanced at the torn remains and the full seriousness of the situation assailed him then.

The police would come and they would find Monroe and…and they wouldn’t know about the drug. Even if they found traces they wouldn’t necessarily consider that it would cause such appalling violence and if so, his colleagues wouldn’t believe that Monroe had taken the drug accidently.

Nick crawled forward and the stench of bile clogged his airways and soured his tongue. Blood as well as water squelched under his hands making Nick want to be sick.

He gazed down at the body and sank back on his heels. He raised his hands, turning them over so he could see his palms. Nick watched as lumps of clumped soil – _flesh_ – slowly slid down his arms.

Monroe had done this; his friend had slaughtered this person and _eaten them_. Nick began to shiver.

He started to cry.

Nick wanted to stop, willed himself not to weep like a damsel in distress but his entire world was crumbling around his ears and what could he do to save Monroe? Save them both?

Nick turned, drank in the vision of Monroe, bent and confused. His friend was waking up, eyes now staring past Nick at the scene behind.

Nick just wanted to block the sight because the dawning pain, the rising guilt on Monroe’s face was torture.

This was his friend, the only one who knew exactly who he was…is.

Nick shut his eyes but his tears continued to fall, sobs racking his frame.

Monroe had been the first person – Wesen – to explain the whole Grimm debacle to him and then actually helped him instead of quite literally throwing him to the wolves.

Monroe had constantly opened his door when any sane Wieder Blutbad would have slammed it in his face, or cited police harassment, but no, Monroe had allowed Nick to pester him, to soak up his knowledge never commenting on the fact that Nick could damn well read his Aunt’s books for once.

Instead they had existed in a relationship that had gradually flowered into a strong friendship based on mutual respect, with a dose of wariness for each other’s potential deadliness.

Nick would never forget the fear he had suffered when Monroe had been captured by the Lowen for their Games.

Nick again looked at the body and cried harder, all his emotions coalesced into a torment that encircled his heart and clawed his soul.

Monroe had called him crazy when needs be, but had never flagged, always lending support. How many hours had they sat in Nick’s trailer reading over Wesen lore? Laughing at the sections that were incorrect or plain crazy? How many hours racing through the woods training, honing their skills?

How many days had they spent dwelling on the lonely past, the dark hours of their lives where they had been outsiders yet (unspoken) in each other had found a place in the universe where they were no longer alone?

Nick opened his eyes because he heard Monroe stirring. His friend was standing on shaky legs.

Nick gazed up at Monroe a new sensation curling in his gut. For now his police and Grimm sides were screaming at him to do something, arrest Monroe to prevent more death. His Grimm heritage would have him kill Monroe because this could happen again and a Blutbad never changed.

Nick bent his head unable to breathe or think.

Juliette considered him insane. Hank’s puzzled looks were little better and now Hank being driven crazy by what he had seen and Nick’s inability to share…why when Juliette already deemed him mad and a liar?

Out of everybody Monroe had not walked away from Nick, not even when Nick had pursued his ex-girlfriend, not even when the Reapers had come, because of Nick, but still chose to side with Nick…to cast aside tradition in favour of their strange and new budding friendship.

Nick clenched his hands aware of the gore on them. He couldn’t – wouldn’t – let anyone, cop or Grimm touch Monroe.

Monroe wasn’t simply his friend, he was the only one in Nick’s world who Nick could trust and could share his deepest secrets.

Nick loved Monroe because of all this, because Monroe was his friend and people normally loved their friends.

And one saved their friends when necessary.

_Screw the status quo._

Standing even though he wanted to vomit and his body was peculiarly weak, Nick walked to Monroe and gripped his friend by the shoulders.

“We have to hide the body.”

\- - -


End file.
